The Wizard and the Ranger
by MyHumbleSelf
Summary: At age 25, Aragorn meets an odd fellow in the woods.... Short story about Gandalf's and Aragorn's first-ever meeting. Please r&r !


**The Wizard and the Ranger**  
_by MyHumbleSelf_

  
  
_The Tale of Years, Third Age 2956: Aragorn meets Gandalf and their friendship begins._   
  
  
He was used to the music of the night, the sounds of the woods in the utter darkness, and he enjoyed it thoroughly.   
Five years in the wild and he could tell apart each of the calls of night-loving animals and the noise of hunting beasts.   
The hooting of an owl and the slithering noise of a snake gliding over leaves accompanied his sleepless hours like the beating of his own heart did.   
  
Aragorn half-lay, half-sat next to a small but cosy fire, staring into the flames, a soft wind ruffling his hair and the leaves above him in the trees. It was a good place for a camp, a small clearing surrounded by trees and thus somewhat sheltered from view. He had used it many times before, mostly alone, but sometimes together with a handful of other Rangers.   
  
The rain of the day had changed into the dampness of night, and Aragorn was very thankful for the absence of rain that night. The veil of clouds that had darkened the previous day had opened, and the sky was clear and full of stars.   
He loved the stars. Twinkling dots in the velvet distance, like a million friends smiling down at him. Aragorn smiled softly to himself. That is what happens to you when you spend too much time with elves.   
  
A sudden creak from the opposite side of the small clearing made the Ranger start. He jumped to his feet, running through his mental list of possible dangers that could be lurking in the dark, waiting to attack him.  
The creaking noise repeated itself, this time much nearer.  
Aragorn drew is sword noiselessly. He moved closer to the source of the noise. Whatever was moving towards him, it would not stand a chance in battle.   
The grim smile on his face faded when he spotted the outline of something quite tall moving steadily towards him in the moon-light. Aragorn nervously held his sword a little higher, as the light of the fire was gleaming brightly on the blade.   
He wondered whether he should call out, as the 'something' that was approaching was apparently a 'someone'.   
  
Only a moment later, Aragorn gave another start -quite unusual for him- as a tall, apparently very old man stepped into the clearing, strode right past Aragorn (whose sword was still raised) and stopped in front of the fire.   
He was wearing a greyish cloak, a pointed blue hat and carried a sort of wooden staff in his right hand.   
In the light of the fire, Aragorn saw that the man was indeed very old, his long hair and beard were silver-white, and his skin was quite wrinkled. Very slowly, Aragorn walked towards him, holding his sword in front of him, but too amazed to even think of using it. The old man pushed up the sleeves of his coat and started to warm his hands over the fire.   
  
"Blessed are my ways, to find a kind fire in the cold of night," he sighed, rubbing his hands together for further warmth.   
Aragorn stepped next to him.   
  
"Who art thou?" he asked, lowering his gleaming sword a tiny bit. The old man smiled at him softly.   
"Ask rather my name than the nature of my being," he said over his shoulder, "there are few that know in truth who they are."  
His smile widened at the look of confusion on Aragorn's face.   
  
"I am called 'Gandalf' by many in this part of Middle-earth, but the elves call me 'Mithrandir' ."  
To Aragorn's amazement, Gandalf gave a wheezing sigh and sat down in front of the fire.   
"And who art thou, that dwells in this lonely country beneath the stars amidst the darkness?" he asked, fixing the Ranger with a penetrating stare.   
Sword lowered to the ground, but still clutched in his hand, Aragorn tilted his head proudly and answered:   
"Aragorn I am, son of Arathorn and Ranger of the North."   
  
His face fell when Gandalf started to chuckle.   
"Indeed," he said, "if that be the case, I have heard many a tale about you, son of Arathorn."   
The Ranger frowned.   
"I see you are of the Istari, a wizard," he commented, nodding towards the staff lying next to Gandalf in the grass.   
"They travel far and wide, that is well-known to me, but my identity was concealed even from me until but little time ago. How dost thou know me?"   
  
Again Gandalf smiled, and he beckoned Aragorn to sit down, which the Ranger did, in spite of himself. He placed his sword carefully on his lap. Gandalf sighed very quietly this time, started to look for his pipe and answered:  
"Have those that raised you not taught you all about the Istari? Dost thou not know that none of us mean harm to you?"  
He rummaged through his pockets and sighed again.  
"Alas! whenever we need it most, the thing we need hides most stealthily."   
  
Spotting a thin, wooden pipe somehow tucked into the staff at the top, Aragorn laid aside his sword, reached out as if commanded and handed the wizard's pipe to its owner.  
"I thank you, Ranger of the North," Gandalf said brightly.  
Aragorn had only just begun to wonder how he knew what the wizard was looking for when Gandalf's voice distracted him.   
  
"I see you have laid your sword aside," he observed, eyes twinkling, "thus the atmosphere of our meeting becomes more cheerful and less sombre." He lit his pipe carefully.  
Aragorn found himself being quite intrigued by this stranger. He was actually starting to really like the odd fellow. He decided there was nothing else to do, and waited patiently for the speech that was obviously going to follow.   
  
"I know you," Gandalf began after a while, watching one of his smoke rings rise above the fire towards the stars, "and yet I know you not. I have seen you when you were a boy a few times, but only briefly and long years have passed since I last saw you."   
Another smoke ring rose towards the heavens.   
"I know that great deeds lie before you, Aragorn, and that you must do them eventually. You cannot stride through the woods forever. It is not what has been foretold for you."   
  
He glanced at the Ranger, who was fingering the ring on his index finger.  
"Ah," Gandalf said, smiling once again, "the Ring of Barahir."   
Aragorn looked up at him in surprise. When the wizard did not explain, Aragorn started to speak.  
"You speak the truth, Mithrandir," he said, "I know what awaits me."  
Gandalf chuckled. "You do? Then you are one of the few who do know what tomorrow brings."   
  
A silence followed. Then Gandalf wrenched his gaze from the fire. He studied Aragorn's face, as if he had never laid eyes on him before. The searching look in his eyes did not fade as he smiled yet again.  
"I do not see anything left of the boy I once saw hiding behind Elrond when I appeared in the door-way."  
Aragorn laughed. It was a quiet laugh, but a true one.   
"I hid from you?" he inquired, smiling genuinely.  
"You did. I was seriously startled, but Elrond was quite amused, I think."   
  
Again there was silence. The fire rustled softly. Aragorn suddenly felt perfectly comfortable. After a while, he spoke again.  
"It lies quite heavily upon me, my ancestry. Knowing what one has to do does not make it any easier."  
Gandalf nodded. "Always there have been those that have to take upon themselves the burden of many. It is them who make a difference." Aragorn sighed. "I hope I will make one."  
"Men could do with some hope, _Estel_, and I fear they will have need of hope even more in days to come." Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.   
  
"Aragorn, do you know the Halflings?" Gandalf said with a new light in his eyes. Aragorn blinked.  
"Well," he answered, "I have seen some in Bree, but -"  
"Good," Gandalf cut in, "I am heading for the Shire to visit an old friend of mine. Would you like to join me on my journey to Bree?" he asked, stuffing his pipe back into the staff.  
"I intended to go to Bree, anyway, so I think I will, yes," Aragorn said, watching in amazement as Gandalf conjured up some sort of light out of thin air.  
"Very well," Gandalf said, now standing up, "I think I will have many a tale to tell you on our way."   
  
Aragorn frowned slightly. Gandalf brushed some leaves of his cloak.  
"Well?" he inquired, smiling down at the Ranger. "What are you waiting for?"   
Aragorn's frown deepened. "Do you mean to leave now?" he asked, frankly bewildered.   
"But of course," Gandalf replied casually, "it is too cold to find rest, anyway."   
He put out the fire with a wave of his staff, and Aragorn was thankful for the peculiar light shining from its top. He stood up, too.   
  
"I think," he said, the Ranger of the wild taking control again, "we should go right across the fields over there." He pointed to his right side. "I agree," Gandalf replied cheerfully.  
They set off at a slow walk, side by side.   
Gandalf smiled in the dark. "Young friend," he said, "I am glad you did not hide from me this time."   
  
THE END   
  
_A/N: If you have read this far, I **beg** you to review! If you don't have much to say, just give me a general thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Please?  
Aragorn *looking at you in just the way that he looked at Frodo at the end of the movie*: "Pleeeease ???"   
  
_


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